


Tick Tock

by L3ftOfCent3r



Category: Pan (2015), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, How Hook becomes Captain Hook, Lovers quarrels, Repressed swashbucklers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3ftOfCent3r/pseuds/L3ftOfCent3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only a matter of time before something did go wrong, and the line between hero and pirate was crossed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Kill him!”  
James Hook shot up from his bed like a bullet from his pistol. He had heard Blackbeard's voice as clearly as if the man himself had stood over him—a ghost come back to haunt him. Hook scanned the room with desperate eyes and bare heaving chest. Yet, the only soul in the room was the princess that lay beside him—a chiefette by all rights, but she had passed the title to another. Hook relaxed, breathing easier as he gazed at her peaceful, sleeping form. He envied her deep slumber, or maybe, it was the ability to sleep at all. For too long, he had been restless as if he had an itch he just couldn't scratch.  
Hook leaned towards Tiger Lily and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek before placing a kiss there. Tiger Lily hummed a sigh but did not wake. He watched her for a moment longer before rising from the bed and shrugging on his shirt and coat. Blackbeard's voice still echoed inside his head like an aftertaste Hook couldn't get out of his mouth. He couldn't shake his feeling of unrest as he stepped out of the cabin and onto the main deck.  
Breathing-in the night air, Hook leaned against the railing of the Jolly Roger and gazed down at the clouds that floated beneath the ship. Something about Neverland's air had changed after all those years ago when they had liberated the fairy kingdom. It was much too sweet for his liking and he often thought of going away—if only for a while. Hook almost missed breathing-in that heavy, grainy texture in the mines. The adrenalin. The danger. The clanking of metal against rock. The metallic scrap of his hook against his pickaxe. Hook took-in a deep breath as he reached inside his coat to feel the sharp metal curve that he still carried with him. It helped quell the thirst he couldn't quench—a thirst he couldn't name, but an image of a long steel blade he couldn't chase from his thoughts.  
“James,” a soft voice spoke from behind him as a warm body pressed to his back, “Come back to bed.”  
Tiger Lily's fingers slipped passed the opened buttons of his shirt front, raking her fingertips across his chest. Hook gave a heavy sigh and grasped her hand as he turned to look at her.  
“Tempting,” he said with a quirk of a smile. “But salvagin' scrap metal from the mines is a full days job,” he pulled her hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss on her knuckles, “I best be on my way.”  
Tiger Lily pulled her hand free from his grasp.  
“My people would be more than happy to built the new dwellings for the boys,” she proposed, “We've been building our own for centuries!”  
A slow smile curved at Hook's lips as he gazed down at his spirited princess.  
“Now, sweetheart,” he began, “Though I do love your tribe's primitive architecture—with your sticks twined together with rope and such—we need somethin' a little tougher to withstand a tribe of rowdy lost boys.”  
Tiger Lily gave him her best “I'm not amused” face as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
“I will see you back this evening.” she told him sternly and he knew it was a warning, not a request.  
Hook flashed a crooked grin and nodded, “Yes, ma'am.”  
Smiling in response, Tiger Lily rose to her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was quick and sweet, but for Hook it was soured by the lie on his tongue. Tiger Lily glanced back at him from over her shoulder as she headed back towards the captain's quarters. Hook cursed himself under his breath and scowled down at his boots. He had lied to her, but he couldn't get the sight of sharp, gleaming metal from his head, or the clanking sound of metal striking metal. The rusty scent of it, or the metallic taste of it like blood from a split slip.  
Hook retrieved his pistol and placed it in the sling at his side. Metal was certainly his goal, but the mines held no prize for him. It was the first time he had lied to Tiger Lily—well, maybe not the first—but he feared if she knew his true destination it might be his last...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always loved Peter Pan, but Garrett Hedlund's portrayal of Hook really made the movie for me. Wish there was more fan fic for "Pan". Anyway, I'm giving it a try. Thank you for reading!!


	2. Chapter 2

Peter didn't care much for the ways of grown-ups, but he trusted Hook enough to respect his tendency to lie. Never-the-less, when Tiger Lily informed him that Hook had gone to the mines, Peter couldn't help but tell her that Tinkerbell had told him a different story. It was sheer curiosity that had Peter flying towards the fairy kingdom as he followed Hook's paddle boat. What business could he have there?   
It was near dark when Hook reached the caves that led down to the hidden kingdom. Peter kept out of sight behind rocks and the giant pixum crystals that jutted from the ground like shards of glass. The trek was long and difficult for the man who could not fly. Several times Peter thought to reveal himself, if only to assist Hook in speeding-up his journey. Yet, something told Peter it was best to keep his presence a secret from his old friend.  
Peter yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open—let alone fly! Night had passed into morning and still Hook kept up his pace, climbing up pixum crystals and sliding down others. Down, down he went and Peter followed through the air, floating high above him. Suddenly, Tinkerbell whisked around Peter's head, tinkling something about “pirates”. A cloud of glimmering pixum dust obscured his view of Hook, but once he flew passed it he understood what Tinkerbell had been going on about.   
“Blackbeard's ship.” Peter whispered as he hung suspended in the air by his own confusion. “Why would he go there, Tink?”  
The fairy tinkled about something in his ear that sounded like “a restless spirit”. Peter's brow furrowed. He didn't know what she meant by that. Even closer he flew until he could smell the musty scent of the wooden pirate ship. It lay broken in the valley between two great pixum mountains, splintered boards littered the ground. Peter kept hidden as he watched Hook stumble over the wreckage, searching the deck for something unseen.   
“Tink!” Peter shouted in a whisper as the fairy suddenly flew down to where Hook stood.  
She whisked around his head, no doubt tinkling her reprimands at him. Hook spun around as he tried to bat her away.  
“Shoo fly!” he shouted in mid-spin, and then abruptly froze.  
Something caught his eye from the boardwalk suspended above his head. Tinkerbell continued her furious flight around him, but he was undeterred by the fairy. Peter watched from behind a pixum crystal as Hook used his arms to haul himself up and over the railing of the boardwalk. Unknown to Hook, Tink had grabbed hold of his high collared coat and futilely pulled at him with all her might. Hook kneeled to the ground and used both hands to grasp an object that was embedded in a wooden board. With one strong pull, Tinkerbell was flung from Hook's collar as he stumbled back a step with his hands holding his prize. A gleam of light reflected off the metal blade and into Peter's eyes. He squinted against the light as he watched Hook admire the dagger. A satisfied smile curled at Hook's lips as he ran his fingers over the engraved metal.   
“Pirate,” Tinkerbell tinkled as she flew to Peter's shoulder, “Pirate.”  
Peter narrowed his eyes at his friend. What did he want with Blackbeard's dagger? Hook placed the blade inside his coat and his satisfaction faded from his face. Peter watched as Hook began scouring the ship, kicking over broken boards and other debris to unveil what they might be hiding. Hook froze then, catching sight of something. He jumped down from the boardwalk, landing soundly on the deck as he marched towards a down-turned rowboat. Hook flipped it over with ease to reveal a skeleton clad in familiar black garb. Peter swallowed at the sight of the long dead pirate.  
“Blackbeard.” the boy whispered to Tink, who quietly sat perched on his shoulder.  
Hook reached down for Blackbeard's bony hand and tore an object from his death grip. It was the dead pirate's long sword. Though the blade had clearly been broken in two, Peter recognized it instantly. He had once held that same sword in his own hands. Hook's satisfied smile returned to his lips as he held the handgrip of the sword out before him, admiring its craftsmanship.  
“He who wields the blade, wields the power.” Hook spoke to himself and the words put a bitter taste in Peter's mouth.  
Peter watched with clenched fists as the man continued scouring the ship for what Peter imagined was the other half of the sword. When he could stand to watch no longer, Peter flew off in such a fury that even Tinkerbell had trouble keeping up. Peter flew and flew until he reached his home at the top of the tallest tree—it was the very fort Hook had helped him to build. Peter shoved open the rugged wooden door and flung himself on to his feather stuffed mattress as Tinkerbell tinkled her reassurances. A clock sat on the small table beside his bed and Peter reached for it. It's tick-tock ticking helped to sooth him as he held it in his hands, trying to distract himself from the confusing ways of grown-ups. The “restless spirits” and friends who would choose to wield the weapons of old enemies.  
“Tink,” Peter called as he traced the clock's face with his finger, “Tell me again about the story of fairies and timepieces.”  
Tinkerbell landed on the table where the clock had been sitting as she began her story.  
“The clock belonged to your father, the prince. For as far back as the beginning of time, fairies have always been fascinated by timepieces—sundials, hourglasses, watches and clocks. Your father, himself, found refuge inside that very clock, calling it home in a time when the pirates had ravaged our kingdom.”  
Peter yawned and held the clock close to his chest as the tinkling sound of Tinkerbell's voice and the tick-tock ticking of the clock lulled him to sleep. When Peter dreamed he dreamt of grand adventures of crocodiles and pirates and battles always won. Dreams in which no friend would ever betray him, but even Peter Pan knew that dreams were not real.


	3. Chapter 3

Tiger Lily paced the main deck of the Jolly Roger, wearing tracks into the floor boards. A second evening had come and still Hook had yet to return. She was tempted to go after him, knowing that he had lied about going to salvage scrap metal from the mines, but she had no desire to journey to the hidden kingdom.  
Suddenly, Tiger Lily heard the familiar gruff of Hook's voice as he began hulling himself up the rope that dangled over the side of the ship. She had it in her mind to cut the rope with her tomahawk and send him falling to the ground. Instead, Tiger Lily put as much distance between herself and the rope as she could. When Hook reached the railing he easily swung himself over. Tiger Lily crossed her arms as she noticed his rugged appearance—his disheveled sandy hair, the extra days stubble on his face and the rips in his clothing. Despite her disapproval, her stomach did a somersault when his eyes finally connected with hers. Hook's eyes lit-up and a grin broke across his handsome face. He strode towards her as if nothing in all of Neverland was the matter.   
“My fair lady.” he greeted as he towered before her, leaning-in for a kiss.  
Tiger Lily greeted him with a sharp smack to his cheek, hard enough to cause his head to turn. Hook clenched his jaw and looked down at her with narrowed eyes.  
“What was that for?”  
Tiger Lily scoffed and shoved at his chest, sending him back a step.  
“WHAT was that for?” she mocked, “You've been gone for two days, James! Two!”  
Hook looked down at the deck and his brow furrowed in thought as if he, himself, couldn't believe it had been two days.  
“Where have you been?”  
Hook swallowed and he raised his arms defensively, “I—”  
“And don't try to tell me that you were in the mines!” she scolded, “That lie only works once.”  
Hook sighed his defeat.  
“Alright,” he said, “So, maybe I lied. Maybe I didn't go to the mines. Maybe I helped Smee find an object he was needin', then we started drinkin' and I lost track of time.”  
Hook quirked an innocent smile and Tiger Lily's eyes only darkened. She examined him from head-to-toe, noticing an unusual broadness at the side of his coat that suggested he was hiding something. In one swift movement, she lunged towards him, slipping her arm inside his coat and un-arming him of his blade. Tiger Lily's lips parted with a gasp as she looked at the dagger she held in her hand. Hook tensed.  
“Now, I know what your thinkin', and—”  
“You can't possibly know,” she replied as her gaze lifted from the dagger to the eyes of her lover, “When I have no idea what to think myself.” Tiger Lily swallowed and felt the hand that held the blade begin to tremble, “James, what is this? Why would you go back for this after all this time? Why would you lie about it?”  
“Lily,” he begged as he took a step towards her, but she immediately stepped back, pointing the dagger towards him.  
Hook let-out a frustrated breath as he threw his hands in the air.  
“I thought it might be nice if it was melted down into a shiny, new tomahawk. Just for you.”  
Tiger Lily inhaled sharply through her nose.  
“Another lie.”  
Hook stared at her for a moment—his expression unreadable. Then, a slow smile curved at his lips before he chuckled.  
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said with a careless shrug of his shoulders, “Sometimes I do that.”  
Tiger Lily swallowed and held the dagger a little higher as she pointed it at him.   
“What's come over you?” The blade trembled in her hand as she waited for his reply. Hook noticed it.  
Faster than she could react, Hook grabbed her shaking wrist and spun her into his arms. Tiger Lily's back was pinned to his chest while one strong arm held her's in-place and the other unarmed her of the dagger. Hook's lips touched her ear then, and he whispered, “Boredom.”  
The dagger clanked to the floor as one arm tightened around her and the other brought up a hand to touch her face. His embrace was too familiar to unnerve her, and worse than that—she relaxed against him, having missed him during his two day absence. Hook's callused fingers skimmed across her jawline as he turned her head towards him.   
“Neverland's been at peace for many years now. Life's settled into a predictable, boring rhythm. Don't you ever miss the fight? The danger? The excitement?”  
Hook drug his thumb across her bottom lip and Tiger Lily shut her eyes.  
“I'm sorry,” she spoke before looking at him again, “I'm sorry that you feel that our life together has been predictable and boring.”  
Hook's mouth fell and his grip loosened.  
“Lily, no,” he denied with a shake of his head, “Darlin', your the only thing about this blasted place that provides me any joy!”  
“Then why?” she demanded as she struggled against his hold for the first time, “Why would you want a weapon from the very pirate who caused pain to my people and to Peter's?”  
Hook swallowed at her words and looked away from her as he glanced down at the dagger that laid on the deck. Tiger Lily watched as a cloudy look over-took his eyes and he seemed lost in his thoughts. It was an expression she had never seen on his face before.  
“I don't know,” he admitted as he continued to stare transfixed at the blade, “It's been in the back of my thoughts for a long time. It's like it's been callin' to me. It's callin' to me now.”  
Hook let go of her and reached down to retrieve the dagger. Tiger Lily stared at him with a worried expression as he placed the dagger back inside his coat. When he met her gaze again he looked panicked by what he saw on her face.  
“Tiger Lily,” he begged as he placed a hand over his heart, “ I swear it's just a token—just like the hook I always keep in my coat. The hook has never bothered you!”  
Tiger Lily shook her head at him.  
“Let me know when you decide to rid yourself of this new token, James. Until then, stay away from me.”  
As Tiger Lily shouldered passed him, she pulled her tomahawk from her skirts. She walked to the railing where the rope was tied, and with once precise swing, she cut all the threads except for one.  
“Lily, what are you doing?” Hook sounded anxious as he watched her swing her legs over the side of the ship.  
“Leaving.”   
And with that, Tiger Lily slid the long slide down the rope, using only her hands to grip it. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she gave a hard yank and twist on the rope, causing the remaining thread to break. The rope came tumbling through the air to land in a heavy pile at her feet. High above her, Hook shouted-out her name and she could still hear the echoes of it even as she ran away. She wagered it would take him at least an hour to gather enough rope to climb down—by then she'd be back within her village and he would be an unwelcome guest. Tears stung at her eyes that had nothing to do with the wind as she ran into it. Her miner was under some sort of restless spell, brooding on the past, and she didn't know how to break it.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a week since James Hook had seen Tiger Lily. He still had the scrape across his cheek where a tribesman had gotten a little too close with a spear, but even then, he hadn't come close to Tiger Lily. Hook had given up on trying to go after her. Even when he left the dagger behind on the ship it was as if her tribesmen still knew he had it. Peter, too, was avoiding him. Since Tiger Lily had first spotted the dagger, they had all been treating him like a pirate. All except for Smee—well, and the barmaids of the miner's village. Never-the-less, James Hook found himself to be friendless again. It was a fact that didn't hold much sway over his heart so long as he kept busy, spending most of his time sharpening a dagger that he had little to no use for. It was the very thing he found himself doing in that moment...  
Hook sat in the crow's nest with his back to the railing as he scraped the dagger's blade along the inside of his hook. One quick stroke and sparks would fly from the clashed metal. The metallic sound and the action of keeping his hands busy pleased him. He stared off into the distance mindlessly sharpening his blade until a thud broke him from his thoughts. Hook rose to his feet to peer down below. Smee was sprawled-out on the deck, no doubt having had fallen over the railing. Hook smirked.  
“Smee! What in damnation are you doin' on the deck of my ship?”  
Smee quickly picked himself up and used his hand to shield the sun as he looked to the crow's nest.  
“I have your package from the blacksmith,” Smee called-up to him as he held the long, wrapped bundle into the air, “And I didn't peek and I didn't ask questions.”  
Hook placed his tokens back inside his coat and swiftly climbed down the crow's nest ladder. Skipping the last few rungs, he jumped down and landed soundly on to the deck. Hook strode towards Smee and reached for the package. He stared down at it as he held it in his hands for a moment.  
“Should I leave?” Smee suddenly asked.  
Hook glanced at the other man and shook his head before tearing the wrappings off his prize. Light gleamed off it's shiny metal surface and Smee squinted.   
“Looks familiar.” Smee commented.  
Hook said nothing as he slid his hand into the grip of the mended long sword and held it high. In one quick movement, he sliced the blade through the air, relishing in the empowered feeling the sword caused him.  
“Yep, definitely seen this sword somewhere before. Hey!” Smee exclaimed, “Where's Tiger Lily? I thought the two of you were...”  
Smee made some sort of lewd gesture with his hands and Hook pointed the sword at his face. Smee gulped.  
“I think I know where I've seen this before.”  
Hook quirked a smile as he waved the sword about Smee's face.  
“Care to share?”   
“Blackbeard,” Smee replied, “Blackbeard's sword looked like this.”  
“Exactly,” Hook said as he lowered the weapon, “This was Blackbeard's sword.”  
No sooner had the words come from his mouth, that a band of familiar war cries broke their peace. A pack of five lost boys, covered in war paint hopped onto the Jolly Roger's deck from all sides of the ship.  
“Smee?” Hook asked as he glanced around at the encircling boys, “I don't suppose you checked that you weren't being followed.”  
“Nope. No. Definitely not.”  
“Wonderful,” Hook grumbled under his breath before greeting the boys with a welcoming smile, “Boys! What a surprise! Did you drop by for a game of Cowboys and Indians?”  
“Hand over the sword, Hook.” one boy said.  
“And the dagger, too!” yelled another.  
Hook's smile turned to a scowl.  
“Did Tiger Lily send you?” he asked, but the boys didn't respond. Hook gave a frustrated sigh, “Ya see, boys, the little lady and I had a disagreement, but that's no reason to get others involved.”  
Smee put his hands on his hips as he turned to Hook.  
“Oh?” he asked, curiously, “What kind of disagreement?”  
Before Hook could do more than glare at the other man, the lost boys began firing their sling shots. Hook dove for the lid of a barrel, using it as a shield as the rocks pelted down on him. While Smee, on the other hand, scurried his way up the crow's nest to safety.  
“Boys, let's just talk about this!” Hook tried to coax them down, but it was to no avail.  
A boy snuck-up behind him and nailed him with a rock to the back of the head.  
“Ow!” Hook dropped his shield as he rubbed his head and spun around to scowl at the boy, “Bad form!”  
“Pirate!” the boy shouted back as he reloaded his sling shot.  
The sword in Hook's hand acted if almost on it's own will and lashed out at the boy. The blade sliced across the arm holding the sling shot and the boy cradled it to his chest. Hook rushed towards him, not in anger, but in concern.   
“Are you alright, kid?”  
Before he could get an answer, the other lost boys blocked him off as they began pelting him with rocks left and right. Then, one by one they all disappeared over the edge to safety. Blood dripped down his temple from a well aimed rock as Hook went to the railing of his ship.  
“I'm sorry!” he called-out to the boys.  
“Pirate!” a boy yelled back at him.  
Hook didn't drop the sword from his hand. He stared down at it as the word “pirate” echoed in his mind.  
“Hook,” Smee called him as he stumbled to his side, panting, “Are you—”  
“I hurt that kid.” Hook muttered.  
Smee examined him and pointed at his bloodied temple.  
“It was 5 against 1, and on your own ship! You just taught the little scamp a lesson, is all.”  
Hook didn't reply to that. He thanked Smee for the delivery of the sword and then turned him away. Alone, Hook closed himself up in his captain's quarters, and brooded over his actions. Pirate. The word was meant as an insult and it had certainly struck a nerve. Hook laid the sword upon a table and walked towards the mirror. He looked at his reflection and tried to see himself through the lost boy's eyes, and through Peter's, and through Tiger Lily's. He couldn't see the pirate they all feared he was becoming. He saw the miner and the pseudo-captain of a ship he didn't fully know how to operate. “I'm not a pirate,” he said to himself, “I'm not a pirate.”


	5. Chapter 5

Peter could scarcely believe it as he flew through the sky at lightening speed—Hook had used a sword against one of the lost boys. Peter wouldn't have believed it at all if he hadn't seen the cut for himself, but he had. Hook had slashed a boy's arm! True, it hadn't been very deep, but it was the thought behind it that mattered. Would Hook use his sword against Peter, too, or maybe someone else? It was that very thought that fueled him as he flew towards the Jolly Roger. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let this happen again.  
Peter landed on the deck of the Jolly Roger, light as a feather. It was nightfall so he had the cloak of the shadows on his side and a little fairy for a lookout. Tinkerbell fluttered around his head, tinkling on about how he shouldn't have come alone.  
“But I'm not alone.” he said as he smiled at the fairy who had stayed by his side since the first day they met. “Tink, can you find a way inside his cabin?”  
Tinkerbell nodded and flew off as Peter crept closer to the cabin doors. He pressed his ear against it, listening for sounds of wakefulness, but Peter heard nothing—nothing but the sound of little wings as Tinkerbell flew back in sight.   
“He's sleeping.” she told him.  
“Good,” he replied, “keep an eye on him, will you?”  
Tinkerbell flew off again as Peter quietly opened the cabin doors, grateful that its bolts were well oiled. He slipped inside the dark cabin then, searching for the weapons that were proving to be his friend's downfall. The windows let in enough moonlight to catch on reflective metal surfaces. Peter easily spotted the sword on the table—the same sword he had sent the lost boys to find—and the dagger hung inside the coat that was draped over a chair. Hook laid face down on the bed, not snoring, but breathing deeply enough to be sleeping. Peter caught sight of Tink buzzing about outside a window and he walked towards it to push it open. The window pane swung outwards, leaving a space large enough for him to exit through.   
“Fly home, Tink.” he told the fairy, and after a moment of trepidation, she did.   
Peter then retrieved the dagger and sword before flying out the window. He hovered in the air just outside the ship as he looked at the sleeping man.  
“HOOK!” he shouted loud enough that the neverbirds probably woke from their slumber.  
Hook's head sprung from his pillow and he glanced towards the window through the slits of his eyes. His hair was sticking up on one side where he had been laying and he truly resembled the mess of a grown-up that he was—he resembled Peter's friend.  
“Flyboy?” Hook questioned, sleepily as he raked a hand down his face, “What are you—”  
Hook stumbled to the window so he could get a closer look.  
“I'm doing this for your own good.” Peter told him.  
Hook rubbed the sleep from his eye, and then noticed what Peter was holding, recognition lit his face.  
“Hey!” Hook protested as he reached out a hand for the weapons, “Give those back!”  
“No!” Peter denied as he floated a little further away, “You're my friend and I'm just trying to help you.”  
Hook dropped his hand to the ledge of the window and let out an exasperated sigh.  
“I'm your friend, kid,” he agreed, “But I need you to trust me. I didn't mean to hurt that boy. And that sword isn't to blame. It's just an object.”  
Peter narrowed his eyes.  
“These are weapons that belonged to a killer,” Peter corrected him, “Why would you want them?”  
Hook shook his head.  
“It's just a trophy—a token. A souvenir from the adventure we once shared together.”  
“If they're just a trophy, why aren't they mounted to your wall?”  
Hook gave a bitter laugh before glaring at the boy.  
“You don't trust me at all, do ya Peter? You think I'm dangerous,” Hook bent forward and rested his elbows on the window's ledge as he fixed Peter with a challenging stare, “If you think I'm so dangerous, why don't you just get rid of me?”  
Peter swallowed at his words and his eyes nervously darted away.  
“You're my friend,” he muttered under his breath.  
Hook exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.  
“Look, kid,” he began, “As your friend, I can promise you that taking a blade from a dangerous person won't make them less dangerous. I could be just as dangerous with a pickaxe, a pistol and my own bare hands. And all of those are things you've trusted me with. I need you to trust me now.”  
Peter flew closer to the window, close enough that Hook could reach him.  
“And I need you to trust me,” he told the man, “I need you to value our friendship and Tiger Lily's, too, more than you value these.” Peter held the dagger and the sword up into the air, “You can't keep them—not if you want to keep your friends.”  
Peter stared at Hook for a moment, noting his calculating expression as if he were planning something. In one swift movement, Hook lunged for the weapons and Peter flew off into the night, carrying Blackbeard's blades to a place that Hook would never find.  
“PETER PAN!”  
Hook's voice chased after him in warning, but Peter held no fear of being caught. He flew clear to the other side of Neverland as the sun broke over the horizon, and even still as the sun moved high above his head. There was a mountain cave way above the clouds, too high for a flightless man to reach. Peter hid the sword and dagger inside the cave and headed back towards home. The growling of his empty stomach told him it was well passed noon and he was tired from flying—he was even more tired than hungry.   
When Peter made it home, he didn't hesitate. He flung himself on to his feather stuffed mattress and burrowed his face in his pillow, but he immediately noticed something was off. Peter lifted his head to see his father's clock, but it wasn't on the table. Instead, there was a note fixed to the tabletop by the tip of a metal hook. Peter tore the note free and flew from his tree house to find Nibs.   
He flew down towards the ground where most of the lost boys were congregating. They all called there hellos up to him as he flew passed.   
“Anyone seen Nibs?” he called back to them.  
Several boys pointed in the same direction just as a familiar tinkling sounded in Peter's ear, telling him to follow her. Tinkerbell quickly led the way to where Nibs was hiding from the crowd.   
“Nibs!” Peter called as he landed on the ground beside the other boy, “Can you read this to me?”  
Nibs took the letter and read it aloud, “Friends don't put conditions on their friendships, flyboy. But if you want your father's clock back, meet me in the croc infested waters near Mermaid Lagoon. Be there tomorrow at sunrise. Bring the sword. You can keep the dagger. Call it a truce.”  
“What's it about?” Nibs asked.  
Peter didn't answer. He shot off like a rocket into the sky, clenching his fists angrily at his sides as he headed back to the cave. There could be no truce, Peter thought. Hook had chosen the sword over their friendship. Hook had taken the only token he had of a father he hadn't the chance to know. It was a declaration of war and Peter was raring to fight.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Tiger Lily spotted the Jolly Roger.   
“Remember what I told you,” she spoke to the boy who held her tight as they flew through the air, “Nothing rash. Don't do anything you may live to regret.”  
She felt the boy's grip tighten as they grew closer.  
“I'll try.” Peter said under his breath and his bitter tone unnerved her.  
Tiger Lily suddenly felt wholly just for insisting that she go along. It was one thing to deal with a restless man—a task she had left Hook to solve for himself—but it was entirely different to deal with a restless child. Tiger Lily feared that without a voice of reason, Peter would act solely on impulse, and there was no telling what damage would be done between the man and boy. Tiger Lily felt a nervous fluttering inside her stomach as they flew towards the sails. It had been several days since she had last seen James and she didn't know what to expect. As soon as her feet touched the floorboards of the main deck, Peter swerved around her and marched towards the center of the ship.  
“Hook!” he shouted, “Come and face me!”  
“This is not a stand-off!” Tiger Lily scolded him, “I will not—”  
“Lily.” The sound of his voice from behind, startled her.  
She spun around to see him just as an empty bottle clanked to the floor and rolled across the deck. Hook stumbled to his feet from where he had been sitting against the railing. A wide grin spread across his face and his stance wobbled.  
“Great to see ya! You look beautiful.” he said as he staggered towards her, stopping so close that she could smell the liquor on him, “Absolutely beautiful.”  
“You're drunk.” she replied with a scowl before looking out across the water where a crocodile circled the ship, “This is no place to be when you're drunk. This is no place to be at all! Why would you have Peter meet you here?”  
Hook gave her a lazy smile as his eyes lingered on hers.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you have really beautiful eyes?”  
Tiger Lily let out a frustrated growl and stormed off towards Peter.  
“I can't talk to him when he's like this—you try.”  
Tiger Lily watched as Peter puffed out his chest and walked up to the man.  
“Little buddy!” Hook greeted him with a grin before turning serious, “I'm sorry about the kid I cut with sword. I really am. There was just too many of 'em.”  
Tiger Lily winced at his words, understanding why he had turned to the bottle. James Hook was a lot of things, but an abuser of the innocent he was not. Peter placed his hand on the hilt of the sword that hung at his hip and Tiger Lily wondered if she should have taken it from him.  
“Where's the clock, Hook?”  
The man blinked at the words and straightened his posture.  
“The clock?” he questioned before his eyes noticed the sword Peter handled, “Oh, you mean, this clock.”  
Hook reached his hand inside his coat and pulled out the timepiece that had belonged to the fairy prince. Tiger Lily had been the one to tell Peter of its existence before Hook had suggested that they go find it. That had been years ago, now, and since then, Hook had mentioned that the boy had taken to it like a bad habit—like a security blanket.  
“Good,” Tiger Lily said as she walked towards the two, “Now lets make the exchange and sail out of here!”  
“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Hook stopped her with a raise of his hand, “The kid needs to learn a little respect.”   
“RESPECT?” Peter scoffed and Tiger Lily noticed his grip on the sword tighten, “What do YOU know about it, pirate?”  
Tiger Lily inhaled sharply as she looked between the boy and man. Hook's jaw clenched at the word pirate.  
“I know better than to rob a man of his possessions and think that there will be no consequences. But you never have held much regard for grown-ups, have you, Peter?”  
Tiger Lily felt the tension between the two growing, but at the same time, she recognized Peter's need for a male role model. Hook had been the closest thing to a father that the boy had known and his words held some truth.  
“A grown-up like you?” Peter hissed, “A liar! A traitor! A PIRATE!”  
“THAT'S ENOUGH!” Hook shouted as he stepped towards the railing, holding the clock over the edge, “It's time to grow-up, Peter. Life isn't a game of Cowboys and Indians and I'm not your enemy!”  
Peter drew the sword and Tiger Lily stepped between them.  
“Stop this!” she scolded him, “Put down that sword!”  
“No,” Peter told her as angry tears blurred his eyes, “He says he's not my enemy, so why would he threaten to throw my father's clock to the crocodiles?”  
“Pull your hand away from the railing, James.”  
“Sorry, darlin',” Hook apologized, “But the boy needs to let go of childish things. What's it going to be, Peter? Are you ready to be a man and look at things from a grown-up's point-of-view—or are you going to continue with this pirate garbage?”  
Tiger Lily watched as the boy's expression hardened and his eyebrows crept dangerously low.  
“I will NEVER be a man!” Peter spat as he pointed the sword at Hook.  
Behind her, Tiger Lily heard Hook sigh his disappointment.  
“Then you'll never understand why I did this...”  
Before Tiger Lily could spin around and stop him, Hook had opened his hand, letting the clock fall, and Peter had brought down the sword on Hook's wrist. The terrible sounds that erupted in that moment were almost too much to take—a shout of agony, a cry of defeat, splashes in the water, a gratified roar, and the amplified ticking of a clock. Tiger Lily crouched to the ground beside a fallen Hook, who cradled his arm to his chest. The sword hit the deck with a metallic clank as it landed in a pool of blood. Tiger Lily looked up at Peter. His expression was horrified and so childlike that Tiger Lily didn't know who to pity more—him or the man he'd just disabled.  
“Go,” she told him, gently, “Fly home.”  
The boy lingered for a moment, slack-jawed as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Peter flew away then, becoming nothing but a tiny speck among the clouds as Tiger Lily watched him go. Hook pressed his forehead to her shoulder as he groaned in pain.  
“Come,” she told him as she helped him to his feet, “We need to bandage your arm.”  
Hook let-out a hiss as they moved.  
“Good thing I had a few drinks,” he spoke with a wince, “Can't imagine how this'd hurt if I was full sober.”  
Tiger Lily shook her head as they neared the cabin.  
“Already making jokes.”  
Hook let out a muffled groan as they moved through the cabin door.  
“How else am I gonna survive this?”  
Inside the cabin, Tiger Lily helped ease him down into the chair by the table. He had his arm wrapped-up in his shirt, staining the white fabric red and she knew she'd have to stop the bleeding. Quickly, she placed the blade of her tomahawk on the flames inside a small stove, and then began gathering up what she needed to mend his injury. Tiger Lily littered the table with supplies before going back for her tomahawk—the blade was red from the heat.  
“This is going to hurt.” she warned him as she untangled the fabric from around him.   
Hook swore under his breath and turned his head away just before she pressed the searing hot blade to the stub of his arm. His remaining fist rose to muffle his shout of agony as the blade cauterized the wound. Tiger Lily shut her eyes tight at the sound of his pain-filled groans.  
“I'm sorry,” she spoke, “I'm sorry it came to this. I don't know how—”  
“Shh,” he shushed her as he reached for her hand, tangling his fingers with hers, “I'm the one who should be sorry.”  
Tiger Lily fixed her eyes on his blue ones—light blue like the sky and just as airy. Airy like his words—his words that told her he wasn't sorry for anything at all. Tiger Lily's fingers slipped through his so she could continue mending his arm. As she worked, a faint ticking sound could be heard from outside the ship. The “tick tock” grew closer before drifting away and getting closer again. Tiger Lily noticed something change in Hook's eyes. His expression turned distant and cold almost as if a part of his soul was lost with that hand.  
“It's that damned crocodile,” he hissed, “It took the clock and my hand. It wants the rest of me, now.”  
Tiger Lily narrowed her eyes at him as she finished bandaging his arm.  
“There,” she said, “Let's get out of here. Can you manage the steering?”  
She watched as Hook stared down at his arms, flexing the fingers on the hand he still had while the other was but a ghost.  
“I'll manage.” he replied without looking at her.  
Tiger Lily turned away, leaving him alone to brood.  
“I'll make ready the sails.” she told him before exiting the cabin.  
Her heart felt heavy inside her chest like their was an anchor attached to it that was caught on a rock. The rock was James Hook, she realized. She feared what would become of him, and of him and Peter. She feared that—like his lost hand—there were some things that could never be mended. As she watched him make his way up to the helm, she felt as if he and Peter were not the only ones to lose something that day. Tiger Lily felt as if she had lost James. For the man standing at the helm was not the same miner who had once stolen her heart, but was a man who she feared was bound to break it.


	7. Chapter 7

James Hook watched Smee as he hauled the last bag of pixum onto the Jolly Roger and then emptied it inside of a barrel. It was enough pixum to keep them floating for a few hundred years on Neverland, or an ample enough amount to travel by. Smee wiped the sweat from his brow before leaning against the railing to rest, ignorant of Hook's presence at the bow of the ship.  
“Did you give her the message?”  
Smee immediately straightened and spun around to see Hook.  
“Well,” Smee began, “I gave someone the message, but they just threatened me with a spear until I went away.”  
Hook frowned. Tiger Lily still had him banned from her village. It was a pain that almost hurt worse than losing a hand. Hook sighed.  
“Let's wait a few more hours and if she doesn't come—well, at least I tried.”  
Hook turned his gaze out towards the sea as he held his arms behind his back. Though he couldn't see the crocodile, he sometimes thought he could hear the ticking of the clock in its belly. It was a sound that haunted his ears as if the clock was ticking down the time of his death and the crocodile, herself, was the deathbringer. When Hook dreamed he dreamt of monstrous crocodiles and ticking clocks and blood. Dreams in which there were only nightmares, but even Hook knew that dreams were not real. He still hoped for the happiness he had once found here, with Tiger Lily.  
After “a few more hours” had long come and passed and night had fallen over Neverland, Hook retreated to his cabin.  
“One more day.” he told Smee before shutting himself up inside his captain's quarters.   
He sat on the edge of his bed as he wagered with himself whether or not he would actually sleep. The odds of him sleeping were about as likely as Peter forgiving him. That kid could hold a grudge like no ones business! Suddenly, a knock rapped on the door of the cabin and Hook let out an irritated breath.   
“What is it now, Smee?” he nearly growled as he strode towards the door.  
When he jerked it open, he saw big green eyes, pink powder, and wisps of brown hair. Hook swallowed at the sight.  
“Tiger Lily.” he wheezed, “You—”  
“You're leaving?” she asked with an unreadable expression.  
Hook searched her face, hoping to see a hint of sorrow, but he saw none.  
“Won't you come in?” he offered as he opened the door wider.  
Tiger Lily gave a nod and walked into the room.  
“I see you've collected quite a bit of pixum—how far are you planning to go?”  
Hook moved towards where she stood, coming up close enough behind her that he could smell the flora scent of Neverland flowers in her hair. Tiger Lily spun around so fast that she nearly bumped into him. Her hands reached-out to steady herself, grabbing onto his forearms. Both she and he glanced down to where their limbs touched and Tiger Lily carefully ran her fingers over his bandaged arm.  
“I'm leaving,” he admitted, “Unless you tell me to stay.”  
Tiger Lily's brow wrinkled in thought and her silent debating made him hopeful.  
“If I told you to stay,” she began, “You would grow to resent me for trapping you here. If you have it in your mind to leave—you'll never be happy unless you go.”  
Tiger Lily's touch withdrew from him then, and Hook let out a breath as if he'd been holding it.  
“Would it be too naïve to ask if you'd come with me?”  
Tiger Lily smiled and it was a sad sort of smile.  
“Very naïve.” she agreed.   
Hook glanced down at the floor and took-in a deep breath.  
“I don't wanna leave you.” he said as he met her gaze, “But if you won't tell me to stay—I've no reason to.”  
Tiger Lily reached-up and cupped her hands to his face. Her eyes seared into his like the blade of her tomahawk against his arm, and for a moment, he thought she might yell at him. Instead, her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her lips to his, kissing him fiercely—his spirited princess. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck and he kissed her back with just as much passion, letting his hand start to wander down her body. Much too abruptly, Tiger Lily pushed away from him, leaving his lips parted in a pant.  
“This is for you,” she said as she pulled something resembling a makeshift envelope from her skirts, “And this was all I came to give you. I hope your journey brings you peace, James. Take care of yourself.”  
With that, she turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving him with his head still reeling from their kiss.  
“Wait! Tiger Lily!” he called-out as he stumbled after her, nearly dropping the envelope he held.  
Hook caught her at the railing of his ship just as she was about to climb over. She paused and turned to look at him.  
“Will you wait for me?” he asked.  
Tiger Lily held his gaze while a breeze blew strands of her hair, prettily across her face, and he realized it was too much to hope that a beautiful woman like her (a princess, at that) would wait for him to return.  
“I will wait for the miner,” she told him, “But I will not wait for the pirate.”  
She climbed over the edge of his ship then, sliding down the rope and far from his sight. Hook didn't know how he could be the “miner” that she would wait for when so much time and change had passed.   
“I guess we'll be off then.” Smee spoke from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.  
Hook turned around and glared at him.  
“Set the sails!” he shouted, “Single up the lines fore and aft! And don't screw this up, Smee!”  
“Yes, Cap'N. Whatever you say, Cap'N.” Smee mocked as he scurried across the deck, following his orders.  
Hook ignored him as he climbed the steps up to the helm, finally taking notice of the envelope Tiger Lily had given him. It was much too bulky to be just a letter and even as he ran a thumb over its surface he could make-out the shape of his hook underneath. The envelope was closed by a caked-mud seal and scratched through with the letter “P”. Hook broke the seal and hung his metal hook to dangle on the wheel of the helm before pulling out the letter inside. A barely legible, child's scrawl was scribbled across the paper, and Hook wondered if Peter had taken instructions to write the letter himself.  
“Hook,” he read aloud, “I can't give you back your hand just like you can't give me back my father's clock, but you can have your hook. Take it with you and remember me. Return and I'll be ready to take it back. Once your friend, but never again. Peter Pan.”  
Hook crumpled up the letter in his hand and let it fall to the floorboards as he huffed-out a breath through his nose. The kid wanted an enemy. The metal hook dangled from the wheel, catching his eye and he brought his mangled arm up towards it until it touched the handle of his hook. For a moment, he imagined that the hook was an extension of his own arm, but how cliché would that be! A man named Hook with a hook for a hand. Quickly, he pocketed the curved, metal tool and took the wheel.  
“Smee! Cast off that last docking line!” he shouted.  
Smee loosed the ropes that kept the ship from floating away and the Jolly Roger rose up into the sky. With a flick of his wrist, Hook flipped back the lid that covered the ship's emissions button. He hadn't used it since they had pulled the lost boys from that orphanage. He hadn't a reason to. But now, as he looked down at the island growing smaller below him—filled with memories of a boy who'd grown to hate him, a princess who'd grown to doubt him, and a crocodile that followed him wherever he went—he couldn't wait to use it.  
“Brace yourself, Smee!” he warned as his finger hovered just over the button, “We're goin' up!”  
Hook pressed the button, releasing the pixum emissions that propelled them up and out of Neverland's atmosphere. The stars were ahead of them and a course was set for a new venue—anywhere but Neverland. Hook felt the sword that was sheathed at his side, just inside his coat, and he realized that it was the very thing that had caused him to become estranged to all of Neverland. He rested his bandaged arm on the hilt of the the sword as he steered the wheel one-handed. Hook had never professed to be a saint of a man—he regularly admitted to lying and drinking was a pastime he often did alone—but he also never condemned piracy. Even as the ship broke through a new set of clouds and an endless sea spanned-out before him, the word pirate resounded in his head, not as an insult, but as a calling. James Hook had no other prospects to follow but the promise of a life on the high seas, and whatever else that required of him...


	8. Epilogue

17 years later.  
Mull Island, Scotland. 1963.

It was night and aside from a few streetlamps that lit the docks—the glowing neon sign of a small Scottish pub was all that could be seen from the sea. The pub's windows were aglow with life and the muted sound of music could be heard from behind its closed doors. Two men walked into the pub: One, was gray-bearded and bespectacled; the other, clean-shaven and donning a red coat that was nearly 2 centuries old. The barkeep noticed their approach and cocked a curious eyebrow at the pair. The other inhabitants of the pub merely glared as the two men sat down at the bar.  
“Is there another British invasion?” the barkeep joked in his Scottish brogue, “Or was there a costume party?”  
The red-coat-wearing man said nothing, while the other glanced between barkeep and coat-wearer.  
“Actually, no. Cap'N just liked the coat so much—he stole it from a museum display.”  
The coat-wearer, who shot his companion a look of warning, had sandy colored hair that was flecked with gray and cropped short enough to expose a tiny dagger, piercing through his ear lobe. The man caught the barkeep examining him.  
“The name's Hook,” he said as his left arm came down on to the bar with a plunk. The barkeep gulped at the thick metal attachment Hook had for a hand. “The fool to my right is Smee,” Hook continued, “And we'd both like a pint of your brandy, if you'd be so kind.”  
Hook grinned and his eyes crinkled at the corners and his face creased around his mouth, but he hadn't lost any of the charm of his youth. The barkeep turned and busied himself with their drinks.  
“Now then. Mr. Smee,” Hook spoke in a hushed voice as he turned to his companion, “We need to assemble a crew. Go find me some able-bodied men.”  
“What about my drink? I—”  
“Smee!” Hook warned and Smee scurried off towards a table of drunkards.  
“Couldn't help but overhear ye,” the barkeep said as he placed the drinks in front of Hook, “Yer looking for a crew?”  
Hook gave the man a weary look as he sipped from his glass.  
“Piracy isn't what it used to be,” Hook commented, “Can't sail these seas anywhere for too long before some coast guard or port authority tries to broadside my ship.”  
“Piracy?” the barkeep questioned with amusement in his voice and a wry smile on his face, “I take it yer a pirate then?”  
Hook sat down his glass as he stared at the man behind the bar, recognizing his mocking tone.  
“Maybe you'd prefer 'Undocumented Seafarer'.” Hook replied, “That's what the naval officers of Spain called me when they captured me for sailin' too near to their shores. I was lucky Smee was able to fly my ship away. You see,” Hook paused to take a sip of his brandy and then lean closer to the barkeep, “We've always been able to escape cuz no one believes in a flyin' pirate ship.”  
The barkeep threw back his head with a laugh, “Flying pirate ship! What a load of shite.”  
“See.” Hook said before taking another sip of his drink, “No one believes.”  
Over his shoulder, Hook could see some of the men getting unfriendly with Smee, shoving him away and calling his “maw” a “roaster”. Things were not going as planned. The barkeep continued to laugh and mutter to himself about pirates, just as an annoyingly familiar song began to play on the jukebox. Hook scowled and tossed back his drink as a male's voice sang: Love, love me do.  
Hook sat down his empty glass. You know I love you.  
He pulled out his pistol from his coat. I'll always be true.  
Hook aimed his pistol at the jukebox and pulled the trigger. The song ended with an explosion of shattered glass and hissing electrical sparks as the bullet went threw the jukebox.  
“YA PURE MAD DAFTY!” the barkeep yelled as he pulled out a bat from behind the bar.  
Hook rose from his seat and aimed his pistol at the man's head in warning.  
“Sorry about your jukebox,” Hook apologized, “But I really hate The Beatles.”  
The group of drunkards, who were already on their feet, stepped closer, cracking their knuckles and pulling out switchblades. Through the corner of his eye, Hook saw the barkeep raise his bat to swing. Hook knocked the bat from his hands with his hook and then pulled the pistol's trigger, clipping the man in the ear. The barkeep hissed in pain as he cupped his hand to the side of his face.  
“That was a warning shot, friend,” Hook said, “The next one will be between your eyes.”  
Smee moved to stand beside Hook, keeping an eye on the barkeep as Hook turned to face the group of men—a surly looking group of misfits who were probably no strangers to crime.  
“Fellas!” he greeted them with a smile as his pistol dangled, neutrally from a finger, “I've a proposition for you. Join me, as my crew, and you'll be pardoned from any and all crimes you may have committed—Not to mention: You'll be granted the prospect of eternal life!”  
The pub was suddenly filled with the laughter of men as they mocked his “eternal life” and called him a slew of Scottish insults he didn't understand half of.   
“Typical.” Hook said to himself, “Smee, take out the banknotes.”  
The men stopped laughing when they heard “banknotes”. Smee began emptying his pockets and his vest until he had 3 very tall piles of strapped currency on the bar. The men's eyes widened.  
“Boys, this could all be yours if you join me.”  
The men murmured undecipherable words to each other, and then stared at Hook.  
“What do ye want from us?” one man asked.  
Hook smiled.  
“I want you to help me man my ship and settle an old score.” Hook gave a meaningful raise of his metal appendage, “The kid who took my hand has gone unpunished for too long. The boy needs to be taught a lesson.”  
“A wee boy?” another man questioned.  
Hook scoffed at that.  
“Not just any boy,” he corrected, “A boy who can fly.”  
The laughter erupted again and Hook pointed his pistol to the ceiling and pulled the trigger. With a bang, plaster fell on to the bar top and the laughing ceased.   
“Are you in, or out?” Hook nearly growled  
The men murmured to each other again before turning their desperate gaze to the stacks of money.  
“Alright, Mr. Redcoat, we'll join yer crew.” a man replied while the others agreed with “aye”.  
Hook grinned and lowered his pistol.  
“Great. And the name's Hook, Captain Hook,” he informed them before taking a bow, and then righting himself again, “Mr. Smee! Let's show them to the ship!”  
Smee quickly stuffed all the money back inside his pockets and vest before the two men exited the pub, leading a group of Scots towards the Jolly Roger.  
“Cap'N, you forgot to mention where we'd be taking them.” Smee whispered.  
Hook rolled his eyes.  
“Smee. If I told them where we were goin', they wouldn't have any use for the banknotes—now would they?”  
“Oh.” Smee smiled sheepishly.  
Hook walked-up the ramp that led from the dock to the ship as the group of men murmured their “oohs and aahs” at the sight of the Jolly Roger. Smee waited on the dock until the last man walked up the ramp, and then, he, too, boarded the ship, pulling up the ramp behind him.  
Back at the pub, the barkeep watched from outside his establishment, still holding a hand to the side of his bleeding face. He watched as the ship lit-up, illuminating the “Jolly Roger” sign that was on the stern. He listened to the shouted commands uttered by the ship's curious captain, and then, suddenly, with a great whoosh, the ship flew up into the air. It rose higher and higher until it disappeared into the clouds, taking with it the barkeep's customers and a pair of two of the strangest dafties he'd ever met.  
The barkeep remained still as he stared up at the sky, squinting in hopes of glancing the ship again.  
“Well, what do ya know,” he said to himself, “A bloomin' flying pirate ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
